Somebody play a little acoustic Jason Mraz

I cannot stop eating. Its officially a problem.
I really think it started Friday night when I went for drinks at Les Enfants with our Fraaaaanch visitor, Adrien.
I had to get the Tassili Shephard, which is by far the most delicious plate of vegetables in history. Zucchini, spicy red saucy sauciness, soft tomato, mint goat cheese....ugh. Stop it.
I also watched Goonies in French later that night, which let me tell you. Is even funnier than when its in a language I understand.
I followed up French Friday with equally French Saturday when I babysat for two petit bebes for a few hours. So fun. I want 40 of them. Clones of them. Beautiful French people birth beautiful French offspring and I got paid to play with them.
I was totally not into going out after that, but Vaudville was calling.
Corrine kindly invited me to join her in Brooklyn for a little stripper/music/creepy folk fun time.
I fucking hate Galapagos as an entertainment venue because its very gay that just walking in always has a cover change. On top of that, the bartenders make sickly weak drinks. Its also always filled with European weirdo men.
For example, the musical act of the night was basically a Spanish lyrics-ska band with a lead singer who may have down syndrome. What. A. Ham. Dude was wearing a suit with short pants and running shoes. He looked like the older brother from 7th Heaven. Also, the drummer looked like Casey Affleck, and the guy playing the accordian (YES, accordian) looked like Jim Halpert from the Office.
This band was hilarious in not the best way. The singer actually ran out into the audience and jumped onto the bar to sing. Good Lord David Lee Roth, take it down a notch.
Then an MC came on stage and wiggled out of a straightjacket (strangely sexy), stuck a screwdriver up his nose, and introduced the most ridiculous stripper of all time. She dressed like Axl Rose and did a little number to Welcome to the Jungle. It was a little gross but she had serious jelly moves. Her breasts had a life of their own I really mean that.
After the laying on a bed of nails trick, I think Corrine and I had seen enough.
So we had a really great idea, which was to go to a house party on 34th and 1st. Doesn't that sound perfect!?
Note sarcasm.
I have so much fun with Corrine though because she is a huge bitch and its awesome.
Hanging out with cheesy dudes in a penthouse is not only amusing, but a chance to put our cruelest zingers to good use.
A guy named Tommy who is balding by the way, was the worst of them all.
He made apple vodka shots and I think he almost punched me in the face when I refused to drink it because it was too girly for me. I also suggested that he strap his bra on tighter and Corrine and I invented a great little label for him when he took the two shots we refused at one time.
Two Cups, One Girl.
I then wrote that on the wall.





Oh, is it weird that a bunch of straight dudes have a giant Johnny Depp on display? Not really, no.
Lick the jay jay, JD.


More evidence that we were in the den of tools.
Battery powered hip hop Santa atop a comically huge wine glass filled with corks.
Natch.



this is around the time I got asked "hey want an espresso?" about 48 times.


Then we went on the roof with Owen, Corrines jock hippie guitar playing sex pal and did lots of nothing. I tried to pee over the edge but it was too cold up there.


This is called being the third wheel.
Maybe it looks like they are joking. Not really. They prepared to make out for the whole 4 hours I was there. NBD.

It was a little hellish to sit in a glorified frat pad listening to dudes play guitar together and talk about why rock is dead.
Corrine and I made up some songs while they played and they were all filthy and rude.
Good times, good times.


I think I kicked myself out at some point because there is only so long you can sit around being like, "well self...you're definitely not making out with anyone here. time for bed, yeah?"
I actually for the fun of it walked home from 34th street to Chinatown at 4:30 am. It felt amazing. Spring air.

Side note: All of this was funny at the time, probably not so much now.
Aaaand goodnight.